


Not Alone

by DictionaryWrites



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Jonathan Sims, Episode 160: The Eye Opens (The Magnus Archives), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Sleeping Together, The Lonely (The Magnus Archives) - Freeform, Unsettling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: In the bed he shares with Jon, Martin dreams of the Lonely.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 28
Kudos: 283





	Not Alone

Martin is alone. 

He is sitting on an island of seastained wood, staring out at the swaying sea around him. The skies above him are grey, and the colours of the shifting sea around him, beneath him, sprawling infinitely outward from his every side, are muted. Sea greens and sea blues are barely visible beneath the grey that encompasses everything, but for the white flashes that come in spray when one swell meets another, cutting across each other on the choppy surface.

That’s what the Lonely does.

It seeps the colour out of everything, leaves it in the Other, the world where people are - there are no people here. There is only Martin, sitting on his unvarnished, impromptu bench.

He wonders how long Peter is going to leave him here, this time.

It doesn’t help to wonder. 

He can never really rely on his sense of time anyway - like the colours, it’s bled away from him, and honestly, he isn’t impatient, like he used to be. He doesn’t mind being alone like he used to - the regular shift of the ocean before him is calming, in a way, and he isn’t cold. 

He does think, sometimes, about Jon.

In a distant way, he thinks about Jon. Jon, back in the Archives - the Archivist, watching, Jon with his tea and his messy hair and his clothes that don’t fit him because of how much weight he’s lost, Jon who killed Peter--

Killed Peter?

That can’t be right. 

Peter put him here, in the Lonely. Peter is--

Martin’s eyes open, and he stares up at the cottage ceiling. Jon rolls over, his chin pressing against Martin’s bare shoulder, his arm curling loosely over Martin’s chest. Martin can’t get his mouth to move, can’t manage to communicate anything as Jon curls one knee closer to Martin’s side, against his thigh.

“You’re not alone,” Jon murmurs in his ear, his voice husky with sleep. His body is warm. “Not anymore.”

“I miss it,” Martin admits. “Sometimes.”

“I miss eating food, and tasting it,” Jon replies. “I miss having a body that wasn’t scarred all over, and limbs that ache when the barometric pressure changes. I miss all the people we’ve seen die, and thinking my job was halfway normal. We all miss things, Martin. The important thing is that you’re no longer alone. You can’t be, anymore. I can always see you.” It’s very... frank. It’s very... _plain_. What it isn’t is very... Jon. 

Martin lies very still for a long, long moment, his lips pressed loosely together. He feels just slightly sick.

“Jon,” he says slowly. “Are you actually awake?”

“No,” Jon says. “I’m asleep. Why? Do you want me to wake up?”

“Um, no,” Martin says. “It’s okay. Is this-- Is this because you’re the Archivist?”

“Everything is because I’m the Archivist.”

“No, I mean, the whole talki-- You’re not conscious right now?”

“No, I’m asleep.”

“So, who am I talking to?”

“Me, Martin,” Jon says. There’s a sort of blank certainty in his tone that makes Martin think of Elias, and he shudders. “Unfiltered.”

“I changed my mind,” Martin says. “Please wake up.”

Jon stirs, little by little, and Martin feels his mouth move as he yawns, his fingers digging into Martin’s shoulder as he comes slowly into awareness again. He sits up slightly, blinking the stupor away, and then he glances at Martin, his eyes heavily lidded. 

“You alright?” he asks. “How long you been awake?”

“Tell me I’m not alone,” Martin says.

“Oh,” Jon says, a little groggily, and he sits up further on his elbows, pressing his palm loosely against Martin’s cheek, his fingers touching against his cheekbone. “Oh, Martin,” he says, and he’s sleepy and ill-coordinated and completely, completely Jon, this time. The wooden note to his voice is gone, and his eyes are sleepy, but focused on Martin’s face. “You’re not alone, Martin. I’m here.”

Martin rolls them over, pressing his face to the flannel of Jon’s too-big pyjamas, and he closes his eyes. Jon curls his fingers loosely in Martin’s hair, both hands.

“S’okay,” Jon says. “I’m here.”

“I know,” Martin whispers. Jon’s fingers rub gentle circles into his hair, clumsily, awkwardly, before moving lower, stroking his back. Martin doesn’t fall asleep for the longest time, but Jon’s hands keep moving, keep up the gentle attention.

Martin doesn’t lean back to see if Jon’s eyes are closed or open. He pretends to himself that it doesn’t matter. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr.](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) Requests open.
> 
> I have a Magnus Archives discord! [Join here!](https://discord.gg/c9aZWDz)


End file.
